Ghostly cries on Whitesand Bay

Well I’ve got myself here, I’m in Cornwall one of the most haunted places in the country. I’m at Whitesand Bay, 1 mile north of Lands End along some perilous minor roads off the A30.

I’m on my own in this remote spot. Around this place is a rocky coastline and out to sea a beautiful yellow golden sunset. There is the hint of a northerly wind and the daylight now fading makes it an ideal place to tell the tale of Jan Tregeagle’s soul, doomed and tormented for the sins he committed during his life.

You’ll forgive me a minute while I take a bite out of this lovely looking Cornish pasty and a drink from my thermos flask. Delicious.

Tregeagle was an unpopular local magistrate at about the time of early 1600. A stern man certainly not liked, he managed to use his position to build a considerable fortune. When he died his body was interned at St Breock’s churchyard and stories soon built up about his terrible past ways.

Now it came to pass that Tregeagle summoned from the grave to be witness against a debtor at Bodmin Court.

How about that then, how did that work?

Well, once raised his spirit could no longer lay at rest. The priests and exorcists had no success in their rituals so decided to set Tregeagle tasks, impossible tasks so that his soul would be safe from the Devil. Tregeagle set a task of weaving ropes from sand at Gwenvor Cove and there he remains in a continuous struggle to this day.

When the autumn gales blow from a northerly direction to destroy his work Tregeagle’s soul cries in desperation, anguish and rage that can be heard today reverberating across Whitesand Bay.

You know there’s a little bit of time to take a walk and get a feel for this place. Funny how in the moment a thought can come to the forefront of the mind. You do get that impression of someone watching you and not that much of a distance away.

I’d say, in a strange way someone’s following and only a couple of strides behind. Silly, that I check, half expecting to see someone. There’s no one there of course, still, brings a chill and a feeling of vulnerability, that there are things that know they can’t be seen. No matter, time to move, the light is fading fast.

You’ll excuse me for the moment it’s been a long day. Until the next time, I’ll take my leave and catch up with you all on another journey through the ghostly world. I think for the moment I’d like to be back sharing the company of others…

by Willoughby Bedford/John Riley

artwork Rod Allday

The Ghostly World Fictional Ghost Stories

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